Storm sailed up Comet’s Cove as the sun began to rise, the occasional dark rock jutting out of the foliage overgrown banks on either side of them. Anxious to be home at last, Lerran paced at the prow. Sheld came into view when the sun brushed the mountain peaks to the east, its black outer wall and wooden trimmings. From the water, Lerran could see the Worker’s Rise, the enormous dome that the Lord Employers ruled from. They handled most of the city’s affairs, the last that Lerran had heard, and kept Gharo out of all they could. That said, a Lord Employer visited the Gharo estates weekly to do business with the wealthiest and most dangerous man in the city.
Lerran was surprised as their ship crossed the harbour. A handful of black banners held in the wind adorned one of the docks. The banners each held the green eye shape of their crime family, the very emblem that was buckled above Lerran’s heart. Gharo had come down to the docks, he realized, to meet him.
As they drifted closer, Urro barked out his commands to the crew. The sails were raised, and the deck given a second check to ensure it was all clean and ready for reception. Lerran sighed, as he saw his father up ahead, standing on the dock with his head bowed. The man was not tall or broad, but his solid stature seemed larger from Lerran’s vantage. Lerran had no news of his brother, sadly, none that would change things for his father.
Storm was docked in the matter of minutes, and Lerran marched across the plank toward his father. He was wearing his stiff grey uniform, and had polished off his black boots after the voyage. The sword at his waist was a real blade, of course, not one of the mock ones worn at the estate.
“Lerran,” his father said. “Your brother’s not with you?”
“No, I didn’t find him. Found where he had been and what he did, but not where he is,” Lerran said.
Gharo turned away and strode along the dock, raising a few fingers for Lerran to follow him. “My sons seek to run the empire dry with unprofitable voyages, it seems.”
“Do you not care about your sons?” Lerran asked, walking alongside his father. The guards and banner-men fell in behind them. The common rabble of Sheld made a way for their procession—most eyes were averted.
Gharo paused and gave Lerran a raised eyebrow. “I care about my family as much as they seem to care about me.”
“Father, I do care about you,” Lerran said, coming to a stop facing his father.
“I know what you and Gadra are up to, and I’m not sending you on any such voyages again,” Gharo said.
Lerran blinked. “What am I am to now?” His father was growing more and more paranoid.
Gharo shrugged. “There’s no way that Gadra could plan all of this on her own, so don’t lie to me, please.” His father didn’t seem angry, more impatient.
Lerran looked at his father in disgust. “Do we honestly mean that little to you? Your own daughter and son?”
“My own daughter tried to overthrow me by taking my trust in her capabilities and changing what I told her to do,” Gharo said. “You recommended her, but now want to say you know nothing about it?”
“What did she do?” Lerran asked.
Gharo sighed. “She told all our people to bring their issues to her instead of me, countermanded my orders in Lo Mallago, and selected jobs abroad that I had no intent of accepting,” Gharo said. “She’ll not be permitted to leave the estate after that.”
Lerran shook his head. “Gods, Father…” Gharo would have let Lerran make some such decisions, but Gadra had been foolish trying to issue orders on their father’s pet revolutionary project. “I don’t want to do this now,” he said. “I’m going to see Tass.”
He didn’t wait for any objections from his father, and strode up the steps out of the harbour. He reached the estate long before the others did, and went first to see his sister. The Gharo estate was as it had been left, big granite blocks polished by the rain season. He climbed the steps, and was let through the gate without question.
Inside the east wing, he went to Gadra’s quarters. She was wearing a simple green dress and looked unaffected by all of Gharo’s distress. She smiled as Lerran walked in, but stepped back when he raised his hand. He gave her a quick backhand across the face and asked, “What were you thinking?”
She stumbled away from his blow, and stared at him. “Welcome back,” she said, sarcastically. She had a long nose, like her kindred, and dark brown hair. Her olive skin was smoother than Lerran’s or Gharo’s, and she was better looking than even the other daughters.
“Father could have killed you,” Lerran said. “And you’ve complicated things for me.”
Gadra shook her head. “I can watch out for myself—wait, for you? What have you got to do with it?”
“I didn’t find Ren,” Lerran told her. “But I found someone who can. He told me something I’ve known for a long time… Gharo has to go. And this failed attempt of yours—so foolish!—is going to make my task so much harder.”
She stepped across the room and uncorked a bottle. She poured two glasses of wine for them, though she only looked down in thought as she picked one up. “You’re going to do it though?”
Lerran nodded, and took the other wine glass.
“When?” she asked. “How?”
“I don’t know yet,” Lerran said.
“Well, I’m with you,” she said. “Obviously.” She took a drink of her own wine, then looked out the window at the dreary colours of Sheld. Her room was adorned with paintings and her bed covered in a vibrant quilt. Lerran looked out the window too. He was glad his father hadn’t done anything worse to her; but her attempt had been reckless and it made Lerran’s attempt even more so.
After they finished their wine, Lerran went to see his wife. He’d been gone from her for longer than he’d originally wanted.